


Give Me a Sign

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is an Evil Fiend TM, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: A piece of paper was shoved in front of Crowley’s face and he batted it aside, watching the Moorcock coming in with a lovely dive, snatching the last glob of seed right out from under a cocky mallard’s bill. “S’a bit of paper!”“Yes!” Aziraphalereallywas in a mood, he thought, amused. “And what the Hell was it doing in the window of my shop door?”
Comments: 36
Kudos: 164





	Give Me a Sign

**Author's Note:**

> [So the sign in Aziraphale's shop door is in the same handwriting as Crowley's fake ID](https://synaps.tumblr.com/post/189336458381/guys-we-need-to-talk-about-how-the-handwriting-on). This is my theory :D

“What in Heaven’s name is _this_!”

Crowley shot a quick glance back from the duck pond. The palace-end ducks were trying to stage a coup, but that big black swan had swept in at the last minute, throwing its backing in behind the horseguards end. Better than a soap opera, that. “What?”

“What?” Aziraphale huffed – both out of breath and outraged. “ _This_!”

A piece of paper was shoved in front of Crowley’s face and he batted it aside, watching the Moorcock coming in with a lovely dive, snatching the last glob of seed right out from under a cocky mallard’s bill. “S’a bit of paper!”

“Yes!” Aziraphale _really_ was in a mood, he thought, amused. “And what the Hell was it doing in the window of my shop door?”

Ah.

It had only taken the angel eight and a half months to notice it. Crowley’d had ready money that it would go the full year.

He licked the inside of his cheek and tore his attention away from the free entertainment. It’d wind down soon, anyway. No food left to fight over.

The angel was all puffed up like a pigeon, chest out, chin out, everything out. “Well?” he demanded, waving the sheet. “What did you think you were doing?”

Crowley shrugged cheerfully. “Every good shop has opening hours. I was being helpful.”

“You were being–” Aziraphale’s mouth opened in disbelief. “You – this – I hardly call _this_ helpful!”

Crowley innocently raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s– I– these aren’t standard hours at _all_! I’m amazed anyone could understand them or work out…” He trailed off and looked back at the piece of paper. “Oh.”

There it was. Crowley grinned. “Yeah.”

“They won’t know when the shop is open,” Aziraphale said, his own smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t swaggering if you just hooked your thumbs through your belt and rocked in place. Felt a bit like it though. “You’re welcome.”

The angel’s mouth did that I’m-not-allowed-to-smile-at-this-but-it’s-escaping-anyway twist and he re-read the page. “You know,” he said, “this is really rather clever.”

“ _Obviously_.” The fact that it was also 100% accurate seemed to be passing the angel by.

Aziraphale made a face at him. “Don’t be facetious, dear boy.”

Crowley reached out and tugged the end of the paper. “Well, if you don’t want it.”

The angel snatched it back with an indignant gasp. “Don’t you dare!”

Crowley turned back to the duck pond to hide the smile spreading on his face. “ _Fine_ ,” he sighed. “Least you can do is buy me a drink.”

There was the smallest of pauses. “Shall we make it lunch?”

He laughed and flicked another seed grenade into the unclaimed territory of the pond. “Why not?”


End file.
